


How Dangerous?

by imaginaryinspiration



Series: Looking into the eyes of a megalomaniac [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Diamond & Pearl & Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions
Genre: Angst, Aura (Pokemon), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Satoshi | Ash Ketchum Has Aura Powers, Suicidal Thoughts, ash is so done with everything, don't worry not ash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27499486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginaryinspiration/pseuds/imaginaryinspiration
Summary: Cyrus with his gray-blue hair and gray-blue eyes, eyes that looked like hers, with the same hunger for power and absolute fucking insanity. He’d seen it before, but that gaze gave him a new chill after her. Cyrus’s (J’s) eyes filled his vision, gray like the fog that filled his mind, when he couldn’t feel anything. Clouded eyes, like smoke billowing in the sky, trailing down to the forest fire she’d created. Eyes gray like the dusty barbed wire that caught his shirt and his skin, red blood quickly flowing to wash away the dirt as he watched the scarlet droplets intermingle with the filth. Eyes icy and cold, like when he’d rubbed his hands raw on Charizard’s frozen body, trying to save his life. Eyes filled with the same ice that traveled up his veins, froze his heart, and choked his throat, making him forget to breathe.
Relationships: Satoshi | Ash Ketchum & Satoshi no Pikachu | Ash Ketchum's Pikachu, Satoshi | Ash Ketchum & Takeshi | Brock
Series: Looking into the eyes of a megalomaniac [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009671
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92
Collections: Purrsonal Picks





	How Dangerous?

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning there's some cursing here (like the first word). Its not too bad. tw of PTSD and its also in the tags. Also I know I said don't expect a continuation of Rare, but here you go! It's pretty short. Hope you like it!

Fucking _Cyrus._ He was standing there, looking absolutely mad, willing to go into another dimension all by himself, willing to face death, willing to face gods themselves, for some misplaced delusion of grandeur. A nihilistic maniac who sought to destroy the universe and create his own as god. He didn’t care about his team, about the poor or the rich, the young or the old, the humans or Pokemon. He cared nothing for anything but himself and the power he could obtain.

How _dare_ he? Who gave anyone the right to decide who deserved to live or die? Who gave anyone the right to seek that sort of power? Disillusionment should not translate to the eradication of life for everyone else!

Cyrus with his gray-blue hair and gray-blue eyes, eyes that looked like _hers,_ with the same hunger for power and absolute fucking insanity. He’d seen it before, but that gaze gave him a new chill after _her._ Cyrus’s (J’s) eyes filled his vision, gray like the fog that filled his mind, when he couldn’t feel anything. Clouded eyes, like smoke billowing in the sky, trailing down to the forest fire _she’d_ created. Eyes gray like the dusty barbed wire that caught his shirt and his skin, red blood quickly flowing to wash away the dirt as he watched the scarlet droplets intermingle with the filth. Eyes icy and cold, like when he’d rubbed his hands raw on Charizard’s frozen body, trying to save his life. Eyes filled with the same ice that traveled up his veins, froze his heart, and choked his throat, making him forget to breathe.

Cyrus’s (J’s) eyes, filled with a fire, at the same time, hot and dangerous and burning. Fire that wanted to spread, _hungry_ and leaving destruction in its wake. _Her_ eyes, so devoid of humanity and yet so passionate all at once, like a predator waiting to kill its prey. Blood, thick and warm, red like roses, running down from her head, staining her gray hair vermillion, trailing down her forehead and sealing one eye shut. Blood, running down his back, his neck, his hands. Blood, tangled in the yellow of his best friend’s fur, matted and stained.

Cyrus who threw his head back and cackled, eyes filled with the mania hers had possessed, willing to throw himself into the unknown. He had no idea if certain death awaited him on the other side; with near-certainty, it _did._ Seeking a world devoid of emotion, devoid of people, and _maybe_ devoid of the “flaws” he spoke out about that humanity possessed, but devoid of everything else, too. Flaws were what _gave_ life meaning. Flaws were the most important part of Ash’s life. He’d failed, over, and over, and _over,_ and he’d died, over and over, and he’d viewed so much destruction it was a wonder that he didn’t just give up and keel over.

Life refused to die, though. Flaws were what defined humanity, just as they defined the lives of Pokemon. Without flaws, there was no emotion. There was no happiness, or sadness, or relationships, or learning. Ash had learned, and matured, and built relationships _through_ his mistakes. Pikachu _hated_ Ash when they’d first been forced together, and it was only through adversity had they found a kinship within each other.

Ash had seen death, and hardship, both in others and himself, but what was important was that people had _hope._ Hope was the most beautiful of anything human. Happiness was fleeting. Sadness was fleeting. Friendships didn’t last (Ash knew that the hard way. He’d had to say more goodbyes than he would’ve liked, and more than he would’ve ever expected back he’d first set out.) and neither did enemies (Gary had been his rival, once, before he’d thrown in the towel. Team Rocket used to seem so formidable to him, before. Now they shared a weird companionship, more friend than foe and he could always count on them to save him when it really counted, more than his friends.) Everything was temporary— that was the nature of the world.

_Hope_ was what Ash held out, day after day, what he clung to as his last chance when he was hundreds of feet under the ocean and on his last breath. Hope was what he clung to when there was nothing else. So _who_ was Cyrus to think he could take that away!?

_Willpower,_ Ash had been chosen for. Azelf had seen him and decided. (It was all he expected, really. He’d been taunting fate by cursing Arceus so much, up on that ship, and the god had retaliated by not only coming to a _child_ for help with _time travel_ (again), but by sending him even _more_ prophecies to deal with.) Oh, Ash had some fucking willpower. He had the willpower to run up there and punch the deranged man in the face! He had the _willpower_ to call Arceus again to send the _god_ to deal with his own problems, not depend on a child like always!

Ash hadn’t been all that scared by Team Galactic, if he was honest with himself. He’d dealt with enough people like them, and after Hunter J, something as insignificant as skinny young adults in cheap silver pants weren’t scary— they were just childish. But then, before he’d even known Cyrus was part of the whole fucking joke of a Team, when they’d been on the same side. And Ash and Dawn had admitted what they’d seen, of Azelf and Mesprit, and Cyrus’ eyes had lit up with a fire. How his gaze had bored into them, when they’d held the orbs, and Ash _had_ felt something, if only because he could feel the aura reaching out to him, buzzing and tingly. He’d almost voiced it, but the second he made eye contact with Cyrus, Ash had clamped his mouth shut. The _desire_ in his eyes was so reminiscent of J’s then that they were one and the same and it took all of Ash’s willpower _not_ to freak out right then and there.

But that brief moment of eye contact, and when the man had grown frustrated, _furious_ with Ash and Dawn when they denied feeling anything, how he didn’t _believe_ them, how he’d raised his hand up and looked ready to strike! That was enough for Ash to realize that _Oh shit, here we go again with another villain._ He hadn’t known Cyrus was part of Team Galactic, sure, but he’d known that Cyrus was evil. Cyrus was going to come back with something big and threatening, something Ash would have to deal with. (And wasn’t that just so characteristic of his journey here in Sinnoh? This region had been a _doozy,_ with threat after threat, criminal after criminal, and legendary upon legendary and fucking _Arceus._ Sinnoh had been more intense than any of his other journeys, especially when it directly followed the whole shitshow with Rota. Hunter J was the _worst._ But there’d been Darkrai and the disappearing town, and Dialga and Palkia, and Giratina, and Arceus, and Cyrus and now Team Galactic. Ash was so fucking _tired_ of people like Cyrus.)

Right then, Ash had known it was all going to go to shit. And he’d been right, because now they were dealing with the International Police, and Cynthia was here, and the not-quite-teenagers-not-quite-adults goons that he had, Blue Hair and Pink Hair and Purple Hair, were being strung along, believing they were going to be part of Cyrus’ plan. The freaks in shiny silver leggings and weird space-suit-inspired costumes were going to be thrown aside like rotten food, left to die with the rest of the world so Cyrus could go into the New World that he’d created only for himself. What kind of _greedy, selfish monster-?!_

Cyrus was looking greedily up at the gods he had under his control, gray eyes turning red, already ignoring the Lake Trio, casting them aside once he was done with them (in much the same way he’d done to his team). Dialga and Palkia, the massive Legendaries, were held in place by the Red Chain, glowing scarlet bonds, and _shrieking_ in pain and discontent, with their weird clicks and pops and screeches that passed as a language. And somehow these powerful beings were being controlled by a single _human?!_

Ash was growing tired of the conveniently destructive trend that “all-powerful” Legendaries suddenly became helpless when he was around to join the fight. It’s like they _wanted_ to be in trouble, just so he would be forced to come and save them.

With a sigh, he held the quaking Azelf tight (and tried to garner his best sympathy for the Pokemon. At least this one was much less powerful to begin with and had continued to fight no matter how battered he’d gotten) and looked up at Dialga and Palkia, trying to make eye contact with the enormous beasts. Pikachu clung to his hair, picking up on Ash’s newfound conviction. Something _big_ was going to happen. And so Ash straightened up and called to Cyrus, hoping to gain some form of response, but he was completely ignored in favor of continuing to laugh maniacally. The other Team Galactic members were standing off to the side, not attacking but not at ease, eyeing his behavior carefully to judge whether he was threatening or not (he knew he didn’t look like much, but they had _no idea.)_

Ash had only meant, really, to use his aura to break the bonds holding Dialga and Palkia captive. He pushed blue energy out of him, snaking through the ground and up the pillars, reaching and engulfing the chains, turning the deep scarlet a glowing blue. It glowed bright, brighter than Ash had expected, lighting up the entire room that had been previously mostly dark. He’d _meant_ to do this covertly.

The thing was, Ash had been practicing his aura with Riolu. He was used to his power still being at the level it was when he’d fought Hunter J (which was still overwhelmingly fucking powerful, enough to make her go insane with the _desire_ for his power, enough to consider murder just to get her hands on it. Ash knew better than most people that power could corrupt, could make people go mad.) That was the last time he’d attempted anything like this.

Ash’s aura, however, was more powerful after repeated training and control sessions with his small Pokemon, and he’d discovered how to unleash more of his latent power. With that, he _thought_ he’d put just enough force to break the bonds. In reality, the aura flowed into the ground, glowing bright, filling the air with a buzzing sound and bathing the room in an intense blue glow. It had dashed up the pillars, twisting around them much the same way Pikachu’s electricity crackled when he shot a Thunder Bolt. When it went into the bonds, it _shattered them,_ large once-red and now still blue projectiles flying all over the room. It reached up to the ceiling and the room started to shake, and the slowly opening portal quavered with the force of the intensive energy surrounding it.

Ash himself only faltered a little, and straightened up to stand tall, chin up, and gaze defiantly into Cyrus’ eyes, which were now turned on him (and so were everyone else’s in the room.)

He saw a range of emotions pass through the crazed man’s eyes, from shock, to anger and then to something Ash had seen too often for his liking. The man ordered the two legendary beasts to attack Ash, just Ash, and watched closely to see what would happen. And the stupid Legendaries _listened_ to what he had to say and someone (Ash couldn’t tell who) cried out in worry as the attacks turned on the young trainer. But all he had to call was “Pikachu! Counter Shield!” for his best buddy to spring in front of Ash, spinning on his back and launching out Thunder Bolts in both an offensive and defensive technique. There was more power pushed into it than normal (passion, Ash knew, and maybe a little bit of desperation and anger) and the yellow electricity crackled and buzzed with a menace. 

Ash pushed his own energy into and around Pikachu, too, and soon the yellow was mixing with a blue energy, twisting and striking out, glowing and buzzing and fizzing and filling the room with an eerie glow and a loud mixture of zaps. The colors swirled together, faster and faster, honey gold mixing with sapphire overlapping with a fiery neon yellow weaving with azure and electric blue and in some places meeting together in a chartreuse and emerald and altogether mesmerizing to see.

Ash felt the heat on his skin, the tingling and buzzing of his nerves, not unlike when his foot went numb and then he went to stand on it again. Not unlike the first time he’d ever used aura. Not unlike the first time he was in the presence of a powerful being with aura. Then, though, it had been combined with some part of him unwillingly reaching out for the connection.

The twisting, aura-electric, blue and yellow, buzzing, zapping, glowing, tornado grew bigger and bigger, swelling and growing like a fire who’d been fed wood. Ash put in a little more power. So did Pikachu. It eclipsed most of the room, stopping just before it hit his friends and the others. Ash could see the reflection of the bright colors in the eyes of Dialga and Palkia, still clouded but fading quickly. His and Pikachu’s power, bonded together, connected, overpowered the two Legendaries’ attacks and pushed past them, dispelling them and colliding with the great beasts. With that, their eyes cleared fully, and their gazes turned directly on Ash, intense and knowing.

…Did they recognize him…? Was that enough to get their attention? The whirlwind dropped abruptly, Pikachu sensing Ash’s change in attitude and following suit. And for all the pent-up, carefully-concealed anger Ash harbored towards Legendaries, the bitterness deep in his heart, for a second he was engrossed in their gaze and it was all he could do to fall speechless and silent. Pikachu did an ever-so-slight bow, and Ash copied with his head.

The trance was broken, though, as soon as Cyrus screamed “What are you doing? Listen to me! Attack the boy!”

Dialga and Palkia broke their stares with Ash and Pikachu and sharpened their glares at Cyrus, no longer under his control. Like the maniac he was, he didn’t realize (and this was another striking similarity to J. Not realizing when it was time to give in.) and continued to get angrier, shouting more at the Legendaries. Finally, though, when they angrily clicked and chirped and screeched, he realized they were no longer under his control and that he wasn’t going to win. And, so, instead of giving up then, too, he called out his Houndoom and commanded him to attack Ash. The wolf-like Pokemon snarled at Ash, lunging forward, teeth bared. (Again, like her. Ordering his Pokemon to attack Ash, not just his Pokemon.)

And again, like before, Ash was not going to _sit and take it!_ “Playing dirty, Cyrus?” he taunted in a singsong voice.

Cyrus didn’t seem to realize he now had _angry Legendaries_ against him, and called his Team to assist. They…didn’t. They still looked betrayed and aimless, after he’d told them they weren’t allowed in his world. And so Ash summoned an Aura Sphere and launched it at the man, bigger and faster and more powerful than it used to be. He wasn’t going to play around. Cyrus called out more Pokemon, and Pikachu fought, a Volt Tackle here, and Thunder Bolt there, and Ash ran, launching sphere after sphere of glowing blue energy. No longer did it flicker like a candle; instead, it burned like an open flame. A shield here, a javelin there, and with each attack that failed to hit Ash and each barrage that hit his own Pokemon, Cyrus grew more crazed. A Hyper Beam from Gyrados, though, and suddenly Ash found his limbs frozen and heavy as lead. He went from full momentum to an abrupt stop, and the suddenness of it almost knocked him off his feet. All of a sudden, it was hard to breathe, and then his arms were hurting, and he felt blood trickling down his sleeves, even though when he looked there was nothing red. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even _think,_ and dammit he was _rare,_ and why had he _showed_ this crazy man, now he was going to be _after him,_ and Ash would never be safe again, and he would put his friends in danger.

And he didn’t move, didn’t dodge, couldn’t even really see the Hyper Beam heading straight towards him, ready to hit point-blank. The glowing white-hot energy beam was _there,_ he could feel the heat on his skin, he could see it, he could smell it, burning dust particles, and he could hear the rush, but he couldn’t move, didn’t even occur to him _to_ move, and then it was too late.

And then suddenly he was aware, hyper-aware, when he heard a “ _Pikapi!”_ but it was _right there,_ and it was so bright, and hot, and he put up a half-assed shield, but it wasn’t enough, and then Pikachu was there too, and launching a Thunder Bolt to try to divert the attack, and it sort of worked, but it wasn’t enough, and then it hit him, and it hurt, but he squinted his eyes shut and bit his lip and _didn’t cry out,_ he _wouldn’t_ give Cyrus the satisfaction, but the Legendaries were angered anyways, and Azelf was suddenly up again, crying out, and Ash could hear the call deep in his heart, and the psychic Lake Pokemon absolutely fucking _obliterated_ that poor Gyrados, but Ash couldn’t bring himself to care all that much, not after it reminded him _too much_ of Salamence, _hers,_ and not when he was too distracted.

Ash wanted to fight, more, he was in physical condition to do so (One diverted Hyper Beam was _nothing_ compared to how many times he’d died, compared to Pikachu’s super-charged Thunder Bolts, compared to _almost dying_ by giving away his _life force_ to the very end, defying all laws of aura, when it should’ve been over earlier, nothing compared to her looking into her icy gaze.) But, he couldn’t bring himself to move. Everything was too much, too loud, too bright, too cold, and he wanted to cry (why?). So he fell back on his ass and then Pikachu stopped, looking back and climbing into his lap, licking his cheek. Dawn and Brock both rushed to either side of him, fussing over him, but he reassured them he was fine.

The Legendaries were _really_ angry now, and Cyrus had no chance of surviving it, so after a couple attacks, he shouted, and with it came a short burst of blue energy, crackling and bright. They stopped, looking to him, and the Team leader looked battered and bruised, and Ash, like always, let the man have mercy.

For a second.

Unfortunately, Cyrus _did not know when to quit._ Despite clearly understanding that it was only Ash’s kindness that had extended him mercy, and that there were still 3 _very angry Legendaries_ who wanted to pulverize him, his desire for a New World was so irresistible that he just walked, limping, to the now-closing portal. As he witnessed the depths of blackness on the other side, his hair ruffling, his grin grew and his eyes widened greedily. He had started to step in, before Ash sent a bolt of blue energy in between the man and the portal, _trying to save him,_ pushing him back several feet before he let it falter.

Cyrus turned, vicious and livid (and, man, for a guy who was so hell-bent on creating a world where there was no emotion, he sure was quick to anger.) to the boy who was still sitting on the ground, leaning on his elbows and panting. He started in a yell, but Ash was first, jumping up (after he carefully set Pikachu on the floor) and taking in a breath. “You _stupid_ man! Don’t you _get it?_ You’re going to _die in there!_ I’m _trying_ to save you, not that you deserve it! Just give up, it’s not worth it!”

It only enraged the man more. “You insolent _child! You_ are part of the reason I want to erase this world in the first place and create a new one! Your emotions are flawed, clouding your judgement—“

He clenched his fists. “You want to talk about _emotions making you crazy?_ You’re a nihilistic idiot who’s quick to anger and betray the people who trust in you! You are willing to kill _everyone_ just for some lofty delusion of grandeur! Do _not_ lecture me about flaws and clouded judgement. You’re insane! You cannot act as judge, jury, and executioner for all humans and Pokemon! Don’t you understand that emotions are what _make_ the world beautiful? We laugh, and we cry, and bond with each other and our Pokemon! We love each other and we hate each other and sometimes we have to say goodbye but we also get to say hello to new people, new friends, family, lovers, and rivals, and _all_ of that is what makes life just so important! You have _no right,_ just like Hunter J had no right, and just like no one else has the right to decide to take away the livelihood and happiness and _life_ of _anyone else!_ Now do you want to _live or die?”_

There was a moment of hesitation, Cyrus standing still, staring straight into Ash’s eyes, his pupils shrinking and hands shaking. Was he really considering…? Could Ash really get _through_ to someone for once? Was he going to turn around?

But it was only a moment, before the man’s gaze hardened and he dismissed Ash with a wave. “How _naive.”_

And he ran to the portal. Ash raised a hand, ready to intervene _again,_ but stopped. He met Pikachu’s eyes. He met the eyes of Azelf, of Dialga, and Palkia. He met the eyes of the young adults who were part of Team Galactic (and most of them really were _so young,_ not much older than Kellyn.) He met Cynthia’s sympathetic eyes. Brock put his hand on Ash’s shoulder, and Ash looked, and the older trainer shook his head no, and Ash lowed his arm. Cyrus paused, in front of the portal, for a second, and turned his head to look back at Ash. For a second, there was _something_ there, something genuine and open, but then he sneered and turned away, stepping eagerly into the portal. He spread his arms in a grand gesture and laughed one last time before the seam closed, time and space repairing themselves, and then the wind was no more.

…

…Was Cyrus really suicidal? It hadn’t really felt like it, until right at the end, when he looked so _vulnerable._ Was he that disillusioned with life, even when there was still so much to love?

There was utter silence. It lasted for a heavy, heavy minute, before Dialga and Palkia screeched and looked to Ash again with their intense gazes. After their eyes met, and Ash nodded to them once more, they turned away and each went back into their own respective dimensions. Azelf, Mesprit, and Uxie called to the hearts of their Chosen Ones and said a final goodbye before each traveling away again, back to their homes. Brock shifted from his hand on Ash’s shoulder to an embrace, gripping his younger brother (really, he was, after all this time) on the shoulders and holding him close and tight. Ash melted into the embrace. He was _really_ fucking tired of all of this.

Pikachu hopped onto Ash’s shoulder, then, finding it hard to balance on top of Brock’s arms, instead settled to ride on Ash’s head, and it forced a chuckle out of the young trainer. Dawn was there, too, leaning on Ash’s other side, touching their heads together. She grasped his limp hand. It was cold.

After a long moment, Ash noticed a motion, and looked up to meet the eyes of the Team Galactic members, the ones they’d talked to the most, Blue Hair and Pink Hair and Purple Hair. They were looking at him with an odd mix of emotions.Their expressions were hard to place, but he could feel from them a mixture of bitterness, of disappointment, defeat, envy, and resignation. And just a little bit of awe. They held the gaze for a long time, and he could feel the way their very bones ached, with the betrayal of their leader.

And then finally Looker was backed up with agents, and police were there, and Cynthia was helping, and he wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed, but Team Galactic didn’t resist arrest. They were willing, aimless now with nothing left besides each other and their Pokemon. And they were escorted away, and Brock was still hugging Ash, and Pikachu was still on his head (he could feel his heartbeat and it grounded him more than he would like to admit) and Dawn’s face was still pressed against his, her hair touching his cheek and chin. He (sort of numbly, but mostly cognizant) followed Looker out, and then they were in Cynthia’s car again, and he was a little afraid of being sucked out, but he was okay, and he took deep breaths, and it was fine.

He couldn’t help but think of Cyrus’ face, though. When he was about to step into the portal, and he gazed into Ash’s eyes with such candidness that it caught his breath. The man had seemed so insane, but in that moment, all he’d looked like was someone scarred by the world, in need of a hug, so _lost_ in the darkness of suffering that they’d forgotten what light and hope looked like. It had stricken Ash to the core, because, in that moment, it reminded him of himself, every time he got angry, every time after the fight was over and the adrenaline left his body, and everything _hurt,_ and his whole body fell limp, no longer strong enough to carry his weight, and he felt absolutely drained and _done._ Cyrus in that moment looked exactly like how Ash felt when he woke up from a nightmare about whatever legendary and whatever world-ending event and it was so dark and he had to muffle his sobs so that his friends wouldn’t hear him crying.

He’d looked exactly like Ash when he’d finally gotten away from J.

If _that_ was what turned Cyrus into the suicidal, nihilistic, selfish villainous _maniac_ he was, was that something _Ash_ could become? Chosen One, too young, forced to save the world one too many times, instead turning and _becoming_ one of the people he always had to fight? Was _that_ his future? Was _Ash_ going to turn into a world-hating villain? Was Ash going to turn into _Hunter J?_

Ash, if he used his powers for evil, was _dangerous._ He had connections to almost _every fucking legendary on the planet_ and he could tear up floors, create explosions, and _burn off the fucking skin of his adversaries_ with his aura _now._ If he continued training…

How dangerous would he become?

Ash must have been showing his emotions on his face, because Brock was rocking him and asking what was wrong. Pikachu was rubbing his face into Ash’s neck and chirping worriedly. They were both asking what was wrong.

“…Was Cyrus really that suicidal?”

Brock’s eyes widened. “Ash, he was a selfish man who wanted to create a new world! I know what you’re thinking. It _wasn’t your fault._ You tried to save him. You _did._ He didn’t _listen!_ It wasn’t worth it. I don’t know if he really wanted to die, if he was that done with the world, but it won’t do you any good to keep ruminating about it. I know you. _Trust me.”_

Cynthia chimed in. “Ash, I don’t know how much you’ve gone through with this before, but listen to Brock. He’s right, okay?’

Ash paused, a little frustrated but also caught. That _wasn’t_ what he meant! But, also, at the same time what they said had struck a chord in him. Maybe he had been feeling like it was his fault…but…Ash could’ve _tried harder!_ If Cyrus was truly as vulnerable on the inside as he had shown Ash in that moment, that meant that Ash could’ve gotten through to him if he’d just understood, or tried a little harder, and then all those people in Team Galactic wouldn’t have lost a leader. (Even if they’d go to jail anyways, but, that was only fair. Ash had gotten many a criminal thrown in jail.)

If he’d just…

“Ash, I swear, don’t go down a what-if blackhole! That’ll only make it worse!” Dawn exclaimed.

He looked up at her sharply, then faltered. “No…I— what I was thinking about before was…Cyrus looked so _sad_ and vulnerable right before he went in the portal. It reminded me of _myself,_ after _her.”_ He grabbed Pikachu’s fur anxiously. His hands felt so cold. “…What if _I_ become like that, so hardened to the world that I don’t care about helping people anymore? What if I became a villain? I could hurt _so many people! How dangerous would I be?_ You _saw_ how powerful I’ve gotten with my aura, and though it might be useful, it’s _dangerous,_ and I’m scared of what I can become, and I’ll only get stronger! What if I…?”

He looked down at Pikachu’s fur. Yellow, his favorite color. Yellow like his buddy’s lightning (even though it hurt when he was shocked. To be honest, he’d grown to like it. It reminded him that Pikachu was _there,_ and not somewhere else, like when he’d been taken to the Tree of Life in Rota. That had been one of the most terrifying and awful things that had ever happened. It far outweighed Shamouti, or Alamos, or Altomare.) Yellow, the first color his eyes saw in the morning, when he woke up searching for that familiar fur. Yellow, the color of his best buddy in the whole wide world, who he cared about more than anything else, who he couldn’t lose. (If he did, Ash would most certainly die right then and there.

…If he lost Pikachu, would he become like Cyrus?)

Brock put his hands on Ash’s shoulders and stared into his eyes, taking up his entire field of vision. “Ash, I mean it. Don’t say that. You are the most pure-hearted person I know, willing to sacrifice everything for everyone, not even caring about your own well-being, your _life,_ if you get hurt, to save or help anyone else. You could _never_ go down the path of evil. It would go against everything in your nature. And, besides, if that doesn’t reassure you enough, we’ll never let that happen. I won’t let that happen. Pikachu _sure as hell_ won’t let that happen. I bet if you even _thought_ about doing anything like that, Pikachu would zap you so hard that you’d never _consider_ anything like it ever again! Okay? You’re okay. You’re an amazing person. Sure, a bit hot-headed, impulsive, kinda stupid sometimes, and you can be an idiot—“

“Okay, Brock I get it!”

“But you’re the most kind-hearted idiot I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Ash. Don’t worry. You’re okay, okay? Everything will be okay. Come here, buddy.”

He pulled Ash in close, for a hug (he couldn’t remember how many he’d had from Brock just today.) He was warm, and strong, and big, and he felt just perfect. Ash hugged him right back, as tight as he could, and felt like tears could spring to his eyes (though nothing came. He was too tired.) Just feeling the great big Ursaring hug from his big bro was enough to make all his worries and fears melt away, just for a moment. And then Dawn joined in, hugging Ash’s back and he could feel her own tears soaking into his shirt but he didn’t mind at all. It felt really nice.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen when he was finished with the League. He didn’t want them to leave. (But he could always count on Brock to stay with him…right?)

After what felt like a long time, Cynthia stopped the car, and they all let go. Pikachu stayed extra close to Ash’s face, his red electricity pouches making Ash’s cheeks feel all staticky, but warm and safe, too. In that touch he could feel Pikachu reaffirming what Brock had told Ash. He’d always be in his corner. He would always be his best bud, together until they end, and (even though Ash wouldn’t) if he did ever want to hurt someone, Pikachu would zap him to Giratina’s distortion world and back to knock him straight out of it. He had nothing to worry about.

Team Galactic was done. There would be more. There would always be more. But Ash would stop them, each and every time. He would always help people. He would be there to remind them that the world was better with love, and passion, and hate and unity, and friendship. Life was better with the flaws.

Ash would be there.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback appreciated! please comment to lmk how I did!


End file.
